Game of the Few
by MizJoely
Summary: A little Picard-Crusher fluff set immediatly after the last scene of the last episode.


**GAME OF THE FEW**

"_Truth is the cry of all, but the game of the few."_

_Bishop George Berkeley_

"Ladies, gentlemen, I thank you for a very enjoyable-and profitable-evening."

Riker, who had been staring down at his few remaining chips, looked up at Picard's words. "I can't believe you cleaned us out. Sir."

Picard shrugged. "You should know better than to underestimate me, Will," he said, a definite gleam of amusement in his eyes. "If you hadn't spent the first half of the evening allowing me to win, and the second half trying to make up for that mistake, you might have had a better game."

A muffled snort of laughter passed around the table. Riker's brows lowered in a scowl that disappeared as he ruefully joined the rest of the players-Troi, Crusher, Worf, Data, LaForge-in their amusement. "Believe me, sir, I won't make that mistake next time. I guarantee it."

"Good." Picard's voice radiated satisfaction as he scooped up his chips and began replacing them in their trays. When Data played, there was never any need for the rest of them to keep track of who won, and how much. "And I in return can guarantee you that there will, indeed, be a 'next time' for you to try and recoup your losses."

LaForge groaned in mock distress. "Great. We've just been sharked by our own captain, and he offers his personal guarantee that he'll be back to do it again next time." He rose and stretched with a grin. "I'll get those, Captain. You folks should be going. Duty shift tomorrow and all that." He made shooing motions with his hands.

"I think he just wants us to leave so he can cry over his losses in private," Troi opined as she, too, pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. "I know that's what I'd like to do."

"I never cry," LaForge called after her. "I only pout." The door closed on Troi's laughter. "I mean it," he added, gently pulling Crusher's hands away from the table as she reached to push more chips together. "I'll clean up. You folks go ahead and take off."

"All right, all right, we're going," Riker replied with a good-natured grumble. "You don't have to be so grouchy about it. If you're not careful," he added with a mischievous twinkle, "you might hurt Mr. Worf's feelings."

Riker ignored the outraged glare Worf shot at him, merely patting LaForge on the back as he, too, headed for the door, Worf close behind him.

"It has been an enjoyable evening," Data said. "You have a very interesting playing style, Captain. I would like to discuss a few points with you-"

"Some other time, perhaps," Picard interrupted, gently but firmly. "I will be happy to talk to you about poker, but another time would be better."

Data nodded. "Of course. Good-night Geordi, Captain, Dr. Crusher."

"Good night, Data. See you in the morning-that is, later this morning," LaForge added ruefully as he eyed the small chrono by his bed.

Crusher and Picard said their good-nights as well and walked out together, strolling down the corridor in comradely silence.

"Beverly."

With a start, Crusher turned to face Picard. She hadn't been thinking about anything in particular, just drifting as her feet took her automatically along the familiar path to her quarters, and she somehow hadn't expected Picard to speak. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

She realized with another start that they had nearly reached the captain's quarters. "Tea? Why not?" she asked with a laugh to cover her embarrassment. "I think I'm the one person who is actually off-duty tomorrow."

"And I as well," was Picard's surprising reply. The startlement in Crusher's eyes had nothing to do with not paying attention to where she was going; as far as she knew, Picard never took a full day off unless he was on shore leave. Certainly never when he was on board the _Enterprise_. She followed him into his quarters, still a bit bemused by the whole evening.

She'd known he played poker, of course. Unbidden memories flashed through her mind; she, Jack, Picard, and one of their friends playing an intense couple of hands before the _Stargazer_ left on her first mission. The three of them and another of Jack's friends-nameless and nearly faceless after the passage of so much time-playing a friendly foursome the night before Wesley was born. The games had ended after that; Picard had never been comfortable around children, and she knew now that he had been increasingly uncomfortable around herself as well. Especially when Jack wasn't there. "It was good to play against you again. It's been a long time." She half-regretted the impulsive words as soon as they left her mouth; she hadn't intended any hidden meaning, but they could nevertheless be interpreted to hold one. If the listener were feeling uncharitable.

Picard paused and glanced back over his shoulder on his way to the replicator. "Too long," he agreed with a smile as he continued across the room. Crusher sank to her favorite seat-the one beneath the viewport-and studied Picard as he ordered two cups of tea. His recent experience with Q hadn't left him as strained and irritable as past encounters, even though she had expected it to. Especially so traumatic an experience; the Q Continuum testing Picard by making it appear that he was responsible for the destruction of the human race? Sending him leaping back and forth through time, giving him glimpses of a future that might or might not happen while altering his perception of the past and even the present? Not the sort of thing that would leave her as exuberant as he appeared to be feeling, not even after a night of phenomenal poker playing.

Not that she was complaining. No, she was relieved that he was handling it as well as he was. He wasn't, she thought with a surge of amusement, bluffing. Not this time. She knew Riker had bitten his tongue all evening when it became obvious that Crusher was holding her own against the captain better than the rest of them, but she had no intention of telling him what she knew of Picard's playing style. Better he-and the others-should find out the way she had. The hard way.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Crusher blinked and smiled at Picard apologetically as she accepted the cup of tea he was holding out to her.

"Now there's a saying I haven't heard in a long time," she replied lightly, to cover yet another touch of embarrassment. She was having far too many of those tonight. "I was just thinking about the game. And about Q." She bit her lip in vexation; she had no intention of saying that, it just slipped out.

"An interesting combination," Picard replied, settling into the chair opposite her. "Q and poker," he mused. "I have the feeling he could raise bluffing to an art form, if he were to put his mind to it."

Crusher made a face as she placed her tea on the edge of the small table that stood between them. "You almost sound as if you want to invite him to the next game."

Picard shrugged and smiled over the rim of his cup. "Ah, but what a challenge it would be," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Think of it; anytime he lost, the winner would be in danger of being turned into, oh, say, an Irish Setter. Or worse."

Crusher made another face. "Don't remind me. He seems to have taken a personal disliking to me-moreso than to anyone else. In fact," she added with a gleam of amusement, "if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was jealous."

"Jealous? Q?" Picard's eyebrow rose in astonishment. "Of what?"

"Of our friendship. Of the friendship you have with so many people," Crusher clarified, voicing things she hadn't realized she'd been thinking. "Of your relationship with the crew and families on this ship. Q has never struck me as someone with a lot of friends, Continuum or no Continuum," Crusher added dryly.

"I never thought of it that way," Picard mused. He raised his eyes from their contemplation of his tea cup. "But it's certainly worth considering."

Crusher yawned behind one hand as she picked up her own cup. "Not tonight it isn't. I didn't realize how long a day it's been until I sat down in such a comfortable chair." She sipped her tea appreciatively. "If I don't get up soon, I may never leave."

"I hope you don't expect me to object to that possibility," Picard replied, his light tone belied by the intensity of his gaze.

Crusher eyed Picard warily. This conversation was beginning to tread dangerous ground, and she wasn't sure how to react. Or how she wanted to react. She put her cup on the edge of the low table that divided them. "I should be going now."

"I've made you uncomfortable." Picard's voice was rueful.

"No, that's not it," Crusher rushed to assure him, then stopped. "That's not true. Actually, you did make me a little uncomfortable." She leaned back and crossed her arms, then realized what a defensive position it was and uncrossed them, toying with a pillow instead.

"I'm sorry." Picard's cup joined hers on the table as he rose to his feet and tapped gently on the back of his chair, his movements showing his discomfort as clearly as her own. "I didn't mean to." He looked up at the ceiling, then back down at his CMO. And his friend. "I suppose the game relaxed me more than I'd thought; I hadn't intended to say anything like that. It simply...slipped out." Another rueful smile. "I suppose Counselor Troi would consider it a tremendous breakthrough. She doesn't think I express my feelings often enough. Even to myself."

"She doesn't know you like I do." The minute the words were out, Crusher regretted them. The tone tried to be light, but failed miserably. They both knew that she was speaking nothing but the truth. That they'd both spoken nothing but the truth since entering Picard's quarters, no matter how much they each wanted to convince the other-and themselves-that the opposite was true.

"No," Picard replied softly. "She doesn't." His shoulders straightened as he broke eye contact. "Perhaps you're right; you should be going."

The change was unmistakable, the difference in his attitude subtle but still obvious to her. He was taking his cue from her, but not from this evening. From a similar evening they'd shared not very long ago-had it really only been four months since Kessprytt and their enforced mental bond? He certainly would have surprised Counselor Troi then, Crusher found herself thinking. Startled and perhaps even shocked her, too. He hadn't been the one to back away from his feelings that time. Instead, it had been her. She'd turned down his tentative offer to explore those feelings, turned them down with what amounted to panic. The bond they'd shared was too recent, her discovery of his feelings for her-no matter how much he tried to let her believe they were all in the past-too new and disturbing for her to be able to put a name to her own emotions. Or to be able to describe her reactions to those uncertain, deliberately unexplored emotions. So she'd run away, put the disturbing and dangerous thoughts out of her mind.

Apparently he'd taken her response as it appeared-that she was uncomfortable with his emotions. Well, she was, but not necessarily for the reasons he seemed to believe. Maybe, she decided suddenly, it was time to set the record straight. "Perhaps _you're_ right," she countered his last words. Startled, Picard's eyes returned to hers. She was smiling as she settled back deliberately into the cushions of the sofa, moving aside just enough to make room for him next to her. If he wanted to join her. If he was as good at picking up subtle hints and allusions as she thought he was. Her eyes held challenge and something more as she waited to see if he could pick up the chain of thought that led to her potentially cryptic remark.

It took less time than she'd expected, more time than she'd hoped. But when he whispered, "Kessprytt," very softly, almost inaudibly, she knew he'd understood. What she didn't know, however, was how he felt now, four months after Kessprytt. And a mere evening after another encounter with Q and a dizzying trip back and forth through time. It had been too soon for her, before; was it too late for him now? Too late for them?

Movement followed understanding, although his steps were as hesitant as the expression in his eyes. He understood, true, but Crusher felt her doubt rising as he gingerly took the seat next to her. She had a hard time trying to read the expression in his eyes through the sudden awkwardness in her own. Were his eyes trying to tell her his feelings had changed, or were they simply radiating confusion? Time to wait, Beverly Howard Crusher, she told herself silently. Time for someone else to make the next move.

"I never could tell when you were bluffing."

It wasn't what she'd expected him to say. Not that she had expected anything in particular, but that certainly wasn't it. "'If your hand be bad, mend it with good play,'" she quoted in response. It had been one of Nana Howard's favorite proverbs, and Crusher found it singularly appropriate. Funny how they'd both used game-playing metaphors this evening. Or maybe not so funny, considering the card game they'd just left.

Picard's eyebrow raised, seemingly of its own volition. "A pity Will didn't have that advice earlier this evening," he replied.

Their shared laughter, although short-lived, served to ease the sudden tension that had sprung up between them. At least until Picard turned his gaze upon his CMO once again. "You mentioned Kessprytt," she said, attempting to sound casual.

"You brought it up first," Picard countered. "And don't try to deny it. You weren't surprised in the least when I said it. You," he added accusatively, "were expecting me to say it."

"Truth?" Picard nodded. "You're right," Crusher confessed. "I did it because I was wondering...if you were still willing to explore your feelings. With me." A slight pause. "That sounded incredibly stilted, didn't it." She shook her head ruefully. "I think I've chosen a bad time for this-"

Picard's response was a smile as he reached for her hand. He looked down at it, then raised it gently to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers, one by one. "You sound like you're having second thoughts, Beverly." He kissed her knuckles as her breath caught raggedly in her throat, then turned her hand around and gently kissed her palm. "As if you opened up a subject you rather wished you hadn't."

She managed to shake her head. "No. I was just afraid that you might not want the subject reopened. Not after all this time."

"What, four months?" he chided her gently as he pulled her hand into his lap, holding it in his and stretching one arm casually across the back of the sofa. "Four months isn't that much time. Certainly not enough time for my feelings to change. Well," he added, reconsidering, "not in the way you're thinking. Certainly it was enough time for me to realize how deep they ran. And in exactly what direction. As for your feelings-" he paused, searching for the right words. "I was willing to wait until you were ready to let me see them. I am a very patient man, Beverly. I think you know that."

"All too well," Crusher replied, reaching up hesitantly to touch the side of his cheek as she laid her head on his forearm. He turned his face to kiss the palm of her hand again. "You gave me time to realize the depth of my own feelings, only I managed to do it without allowing myself to think about it, not consciously. So if my decision to say something to you tonight seems rather sudden, don't worry; it seems sudden to me, too." She smiled. "But it also feels...right."

The first kiss was as tentative, as hesitant, as their conversation had been. The second, however, left no room for doubt, no room to wonder about things said and unsaid. It was all there, in the tender press of lips to lips, in the looks two sets of eyes wore when that kiss-passionate, tender-ended. The words, they both knew, would come later. And this time, there would be no turning away.

* * *

_A/N: This is one of my first Next Gen Picard/Crusher stories, originally published in the early 90s. I dug up some old files, dusted them off and decided to post. Enjoy!_


End file.
